


Let's Get Physical

by beanietyler



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Gay, Gay Sex, He's a smol adult, M/M, Massage, Tyler's kinda sassy, annoying conservative family, annoying religious family, gay porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-22 11:09:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7434682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanietyler/pseuds/beanietyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler is an 18 year old boy just trying to get a grip in the world. His back’s been hurting, and he needs some physical therapy to help his pain. But damn… who's that physical therapist?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am happy to inform you that this fanfiction begins with a Doctor Patrick Stump.

Chapter 1

“So, Tyler, how has your health been?” asked Dr. Patrick Stump, my pediatrician whom I’d been seeing all my life.

“Eh, okay, I guess.”

He looked at me from over his glasses, a sign to elaborate more.

“Well, I've been much less active ever since basketball season ended, back when I was in high school, of course, but that was a while ago, in winter.” It was summer now, July to be exact, and I had recently graduated high school. I was 18, a young, naive, smol boy who didn't know what I was going to do in life nor where I was going to go. The world was my oyster, but I didn't quite know how to crack it… Anyway, right now I just really had to get this doctor’s appointment out of the way, so I could get my shots required for college and head back home.

“Are you completely sedentary right now?” Dr. Stump asked me as he adjusted his grey hat. He'd always worn a hat at every appointment I’d been to with him. It was kinda weird: a doctor wearing a hat. Is that allowed?

“No, I take jogs around the block. But it's like, I have no muscle.”

Dr. Stump nodded and wrote something down on his clipboard. “Anything else?”

“Um, I've been having really bad back pain, in my upper back. During the day it's not as bad, but…”

“It probably happens at night, right?” (authornote: fight it, take the pain ignite it lol) Dr. Stump asked me.

“Yeah.” I told him.

“Hmm, at your age the pain is musculoskeletal, so nothing too severe, probably. I'm going to write you a prescription for some physical therapy, does that sound okay?”

“Umm, yes, I guess. I've never been to physical therapy. Is that the one where they like, hold you down and then crack your back?” I asked nervously.

Dr. Stump laughed. “Oh no, don't worry, physical therapy just consists of easy exercises. You're thinking of a chiropractor.”

Phew.

…..|-/…..

Later that night…

“So what did Doctor Stump say today?” My mom asked me that night at dinner as she cut her steak.

I moved my peas and carrots around my plate, not in the mood to eat. “He said I need physical therapy.”

“Physical therapy? For what?” she asked, confused.

“For my back. It's been hurting. I don't know, I thought he would just give me some stronger pain meds or something but he gave me a prescription for therapy.” I shrugged. Maybe Dr. Stump knew that strong meds would not have been the best thing for me, considering I was already in therapy with a psychiatrist.

“It's not like you're some old man, Tyler. Old people go to physical therapy.” She stated as she continued to cut her steak.

“Hey! I'm not an old man!” My dad chimed in. 

My mom rolled her eyes.

He continued, “My physical therapist was great, and I was outta there real quick.” He took a bite of his food. “That was almost ten years ago, when I sprained my ankle real bad.”

“But was the place filled with old people?”

“The therapy place? I mean, yeah, but older people obviously have more mobility issues, and need to go to therapy a lot of the time! It's not a bad thing, just a fact.”

I was starting to get frustrated. “This wasn't exactly the way I had expected to spend the summer of my senior year…” I told them under my breath.

“Well it doesn't appear as though you have many other plans!” my little sister Madison scoffed at me, sticking her tongue out.

I could have said something sarcastic back to her, but I didn't feel like having my parents up my ass anymore, so I took a few bites of food. She was right, though. I hadn't been doing much except working on my poems and trying to stay out of the hot Ohio sun. My friends all had jobs, they were busy. I wasn't. I didn't want to be busy.

I picked up my plate and stood up. “Well can you guys please find me a therapy place? I don't know what’s covered under our insurance.”

“Don't worry about it, son, I'll take care of it.” my dad told me. “Now go say your prayers.”

I put my plate in the sink and retreated to my room for “prayer time”. I locked the door in haste as my heartbeat sped up in excitement. A warm feeling began to grow in my chest as I grabbed my laptop and put it on my bed, along with the lotion and tissue box I had hidden under my bed.

Fuck yeah. I loved prayer time. I “prayed” every day. Sometimes twice a day, if I was feeling very holy. (horny.)

I navigated PornHub, looking to find a title that interested me.

Oh yeah, another thing: I’m totally gay. But in the closet.

I settled with a video titled, “Hot Shy Punk Jock Drummer Bends Over to Open Up About His Gayness, and Fucks Religious Twink”

I touched myself quietly, so as to not be disturbed, because according to my family, I was praising the lord.

I rubbed my solid hard cock up and down smoothly and steadily, not too quickly and not too slowly, just the way I liked it, and I began to breathe heavy. It felt so good to relieve the tension that I had built up throughout the day. The guys in the porn video appeared to really be into each other. Maybe even in a relationship. But damn, they were really fucking each other passionately. And the cheesiness of it turned me on even more. 

God, I wanted to know. I wanted to know what it felt like to have a dick inside of me. I wanted to ride a man so badly: not a teenage boy such as myself, but a man man. A daddy. But how the fuck was I supposed to do that? There was no way in hell I’d survive a fucking like that. Here I was, a sad, puny, pathetic little 18-year-old-virgin, who was greatly sheltered from the thrills of the world due to my conservative and religious parents. Who, by the way, would send me to a “scared STRAIGHT” camp if I were to ever come out of the closet, even if it were an accident. They didn't care if I was 18 now: “you're still under my roof, you're still under my rules!” my mom would tell me any time I attempted to do anything independent.

Thinking about this was sort of killing my boner, so I restarted the video and focused only on the two lovers. Once I was hot again, and nearing my breaking point, I reached down with my other hand towards my asshole. Chills flew through my body.

“Tylerrrr!” Madison shouted from outside my door, knocking.

Fuck. You.

I took a deep breath to make sure my voice sounded normal. “What?!” I shouted.

“Tyler I left my phone in there! Let me in!” she whined.

“I'm praying, leave me alone!”

“Come on Tyler!”

I looked back at the video to see the twink exploding his load on the broad-shouldered drummer guy. Fuck.

With my free hand, I then rammed my finger into my asshole, and with two more pumps of my hand on my cock, I shot my load right onto my bed sheets. FUCK! Not on the sheets!

“TYLER!” Madison yelled.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I accidentally yelled. Oh shit. Big mistake. I was surely dead. I heard her begin to cry then run down the hallway.

I finished stroking my dick, riding out the last of my ejaculation, and scrambled to my feet. Pulling up my pants, I closed the browser on my laptop and threw it on my desk, then I grabbed the tissue box and lotion, and tossed them under my bed again.

There was a furious hand outside my door, the knob jiggling as it turned and was opened by a key. At that moment, I jumped onto my bed and sat directly on my semen. My dad was in the doorway, face red and furious. I felt the warm semen soak through my basketball shorts.

“How DARE you SAY THAT TO YOUR LITTLE SISTER! How DARE you! That is NOT something I'd expect from you! What in God’s names is wrong with you! You're a MAN now, a CHRISTIAN MAN. NOT SOME PUNK TEENAGER!”

Please don't make me get up. Please don't make me get up. Please don't make me get up.

“GET UP and GO APOLOGIZE to Madison! Come and apologize to your WHOLE FAMILY!”

My heart was racing. What do I do?! I decided to resist. I looked down, arms folded across my chest.

“TYLER ROBERT! DO AS I SAY!”

Ah, my resistance was making him angrier! I then decided to well up some fake tears. I began to whimper. Maybe he'd see me crying and soften up?

“GET UP!” He kicked my bed and yanked me up roughly by my arm. He'd scared me. Real tears began spilling out of my eyes. I cried in anguish, in hatred, almost. And, he had probably seen the stain.

But he didn't. He was already pulling me out of my room and to the living room, where my sister was hugging my mom, sobbing. My father let go of his grip on me. I was sobbing in fear, anxiety, and nervousness that they might see my soiled pants. But I wouldn't care if they did. I wouldn't care if they found out I’d masturbated instead of prayed. I wouldn't care if they found out I was gay and sent me to an institution. Sounds a hell of a lot better than being here. I wouldn't care.

“Tyler has something to say to you, Madison. Tyler has something to say to the whole family.”

I gasped for air in between a sob, and rubbed off the snot dripping from my nose with my hand. I sobbed again then took another deep breath. They were all looking at me in almost disgust. Because I wasn't the perfect young, successful, strong, happy, Christian man that they had expected me to become. I wasn't the son they wanted. I was the complete opposite. And I was tired of seeing their constant disappointment in me every day.

“Mom, dad, Madison…” I paused to look away. Let them be disappointed. “I’m gay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY THIS WAS SO ANNOYING TBH I HATE WRITINF ABOUT HIS FAMILY I PROMISE THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE WAY BETTER AND HAVE LESS OF THE FAMILY. (the story is NOT centered around his family issues) ah and the porn video title is a ref to my OTHER FIC, where ty & Josh r in a porno!! lol check it out


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay (i went to disneyland yayayay) but I’m back with a hole new long ass chap, a lot better than the first omg
> 
> Recap: I was tired of seeing their constant disappointment in me every day.  
> “Mom, dad, Madison…” I paused to look away. Let them be disappointed. “I’m gay.”

Chapter 2

Well, after all that they didn't send me to a homophobe hospital. And they never found out about the cum stain on my pants, either. So they still expected me to have prayer time alone. We came to an agreement that Madison couldn't bother me while I'm praying, so long as I didn't bother her.

The reactions on their faces when I had come out to them were frightening, to be completely honest. It wasn't funny or satisfying at all. They were horrified. Probably thinking, “I have a fag for a son! What are my girlfriends at church going to think?! I won't be taken seriously! We're going to be kicked out!” And thinking about them thinking about these things horrified me. They hadn't talked to me for the next few days, and I had found that I had more freedom around the house, and I started heading out without having to tell them where I was going. I still loved them, they were my parents, of course. But to think that they didn't accept me because of my sexuality most definitely did not make me want to talk to them.

The only sexual encounter I’d had with another person was junior year. I was at my friend Brendon’s house working on a history project we’d had together. His parents weren't home, and he decided to pull out some vodka. You know, we were two dumb teenage boys. He gave me like two shots, and being the virgin to alcohol that I was, I was feeling a bit tipsy pretty quickly. And being that Brendon told his friends that he was bi-curious, he made his moves on me. 

He knew perfectly well that I was gay. (I told my close friends I was gay, not my family). And it was only after I found out his parents were away that I realized it was a set up: him inviting me over to his place for the project. And yes, it was consentful. He just gave me a handjob after we made out and then he bust his nut on my face. I think he really enjoyed himself but I knew I could never go out with a sparkly guy like him. He was going out with a dude named Ryan last I’d heard.

I didn't have my own car, so I had to drive the family minivan. I parked the van in front of a gym called Planet Fitness. Supposedly, my physical therapy (PT) place was located inside of the gym. I sighed as I checked my phone again before heading in. Things were shit at home, so I did whatever I could do to stall and stay out of the house.

The clinic was on the top floor of the gym, so I went up the stairs and through some doors to be greeted boringly by some grumpy old lady receptionist. She told me to sit down and wait, then she escorted me through a set of doors and down a ramp to the big therapy room. The floor was a light-washed wood, and the wall to the left was a mirror. There were railings on that mirror, and there were some scattered weight machines and exercise balls. I snickered at the stairs that went to nowhere. The place looked like a dance studio with some therapy benches.

I sat down on the bench that she lead me to, then she left and told me my therapist would be out shortly. I sighed and looked around, with my hands beneath my legs and swinging my feet off the side of the bench. I hoped this lady could fix my back. Would I have to do exercises at home, too? Gross.

I was looking down when I heard “Hi, Tyler?”

I looked up to say, “Yes, hi.”

Only my therapist was not a lady.   
Oh.   
My. God.   
The man who approached me was a fucking angel. His whole right arm was tattooed. He was muscular and broad-shouldered, but he was soft. He was wearing a loose tank top which really showed off his amazingly toned arms and great neck. He had gauges and a nose ring, which were the next things I noticed after his amazing build. His skin was a warm, lighter shade and his cheeks were pink, just like his hair. He was different, so different, in an interesting and adorable fucking way...

“Hello! I’m Joshua Dun, your new physical therapist!” He said with a smile. His face wrinkled up when he smiled, his cheeks raising to his eyes. His chocolate eyes sparkled and his teeth glistened. They fucking GLISTENED. How is that possible?! How was he glowing?!

“Hi,” I breathed. I didn’t realize that I wasn’t smiling back. He looked to be in his late-20’s. He was wearing white basketball shorts and orange and black Nikes. To me, his outfit appeared kind of messy (along with his complexion) for a physical therapist… I thought they were supposed to wear scrubs or something? I didn’t care. He looked messily amazing. 

The top of his forehead might have been a little wet with sweat. He looked like such a gym rat. And I could feel my own face heat up while I looked him over. I just couldn’t get over his arms. And his big daddy hands. Daddy. His arms were manly, but not hairy, and his damn hands looked a bit worn, but still muscular and soft like the rest of him.

‘Touch my back,’ I thought to myself. ‘Now’. I was such a little slut.

“It’s great to meet you! I’ve been told you’ve got some back pain?” he told me as he looked at his sheet of paper. He was standing pretty damn close to me, and I could almost feel his body heat.

I gulped.

“Yeah, in my upper back,”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have any idea of what’s causing it?” He raised an eyebrow.

I thought for a second, looking away from him. “No… I’m not sure… I think it’s ‘cause I don’t exercise.”

“Are you completely sedentary?”

My face was flushed, and I could feel it. How embarrassing.  
“Yeah, I sit around all day.” I blurted. Stupid, stupid Tyler! Why did I say that! “I mean, I uh, go for jogs pretty often though.”

“That’s good! Still, jogs most likely aren’t going to solve your back problem. You probably need to build up your back muscles, and I’m going to help you do that, so that you can feel better. Does that sound good?” Josh asked me.

You sound good. I thought to myself. “Yep! Sounds good.” I replied. I took a deep breath silently, my lungs wheezing slightly in excitement.

“Okay then! First I’m going to have to ask you some stuff about your medical history,” he said as he grabbed a rolly chair from under my bench, “and your pain intensity, and any medications you’re on.”

He continued with the evaluation, which consisted of me answering a bunch of his boring questions. Standard procedure. I watched his eyelids and lashes whenever he looked down to write. And I noticed how he was sitting on that little rolly chair with his legs spread wide apart, somewhat near my feet. I made sure not to swing them anymore.

“Alright, now that that’s out of the way, I’m going to scoot over behind you and feel your back, okay?”

“Okay.” Shivers went down my spine.

“Are you in high school, Tyler?” he asked as he moved around my bench with his little rolly chair.

“Uh, I just graduated, actually!”

“Nice! Congrats. Yeah that’s what I figured when I saw you were 18, and it’s summer and all.”

“Yeah.” I felt his hands on my back.

“I’m just going to feel around the tight spots and you tell me if anything hurts, alright?”

I nodded. And I made sure to keep my cool. His thumbs pressed hard into my upper back, and when he got to certain spots I lightly winced. But overall, this massage felt good. In a painful way. Damn, my back must have really been messed up.

“So I don’t see anything chronically wrong with your back, but I can really feel how tight it is.”

He continued feeling around, and slowly worked his way down my spine, lower, and lower, until he took his hands off of me to write stuff down.

“Okay! Can you please lay down on your stomach for me?” He patted on the bench.

Mhm. I started to do so.

“Do you think you could take your hoodie off-?” He started.

“Oh yeah, sorry.” I got back up to pull of my black hoodie.

“Just so that I can evaluate you better.”

I tossed it on the ground and laid down quickly. 

“How’s your posture?” My therapist asked me.

“It could be better, I guess.” I told him. “Oh, um, Mister… Dun? Is it?”

“Oh, please, call me Josh.”

“How long do you think I’ll be in therapy for?” I might have had to switch therapists. I couldn’t freak out every time he touched me! Or get nervous whenever he asked me to do something. But then again, why would I WANT to switch therapists? I’d still see him around… And think about him… And think about his hands and arms…  
I might have to switch to a different clinic. My anxiety began to act up again.

“Well, I’ll probably determine that by the end of our session today, but I’d say at least a month for once a week, maybe more, depending on how you’re feeling.”

“Okay.” He was so out of my league. I probably seemed so pathetic to him. He was so… cool. And I wasn’t. He was kind of a punk jock. I was just a smol boy looking at older guys. Pathetic.

He felt my back as I was laying down on my stomach, and then he said he was going to check my “range of motion” or some shit. Sure, some of the things he did hurt, but I liked the pain. Of course I did. Typical me. He then asked me to get up.

My heart was still pounding as he checked my reflexes. I reacted EXTRA quickly to his every touch, and he said, “Wow! Great reflexes!” I tried to hold back my blush, if that were possible.

Josh said he was done with the assessment, and that I had done a lot better than he had thought. He said he was proud of me. I smiled sheepishly. He deduced that I would definitely need to be in therapy until my summer was over, and even then, possibly have to continue on therapy in college. It didn’t matter, the university I was going to was only 20 minutes away. I’d still be around.

Josh said that for the next session, he would introduce me to some exercises that I would take home. I grimaced at the thought, but I then realized that I was mostly excited to start these sessions with my gorgeous physical therapist. Would it still be a good idea to switch clinics, though? That thought lingered in the back of my head. Nah, fuck it. I’m staying.

When I assumed he was done with me, I told him thank you and bye, and he told me I did an awesome job today. I awkwardly began to make my way to the door when-

“Hey!” Josh shouted to my back. I jumped slightly, stunned. I turned to see him walking towards me, smiling. “Almost forgot your hoodie!”

“Oh.”

“Um, next time, try to wear something more suitable for therapy, ya know, not black skinny jeans and a hoodie.” He told me awkwardly, looking at my pants and pushing his hand through his hair.

I nodded and smiled, knowing that if I tried to open my mouth to speak words, only a squeak would come out. I rushed out the door.

“Bye…?” I had barely heard him say as I went out.

Damn, the fresh air never felt so good on my cheeks. I had it bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the Tyler/Brendon I kno that's tacky & not allowed sorry. PS I looove your comments they literally always brighten my day so so much <3


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